


Maybe

by smol_bird



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, But it's sort of sad, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hopeful Ending, It's a birthday fic, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Canon, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_bird/pseuds/smol_bird
Summary: There were no calendars in space, but Tony, for better or for worse, had a damn good internal clock.





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> INFINITY WAR SPOILERS! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!
> 
> So it's Tony Stark's birthday today, and I like writing birthday fics. I also like angst. A little.

There were no calendars in space, but Tony, for better or for worse, had a damn good internal clock. 

People didn’t usually think so – after all, he missed appointments and meetings, or spent hours at a time in his workshop back when that was a luxury he could afford. But that never happened because he didn’t know what day it was, or how many hours passed since he first began working on a project. He just forgot the events bound to dates – or, well, he simply didn’t care. 

It turned out, forgetting your own birthday is sort of hard. 

Back on Earth Pepper insisted on organizing fancy galas where he would shake hands with guests and get them to donate millions to charities. Before Pepper he had Rhodes who would wake Tony up at midnight if he was sleeping, would yell an overused birthday song at the top of his lungs and chuck a neatly wrapped gift towards him. Before Rhodey, there were Jarvis and his mother. 

And now there was no one, but after years and years of repetition, it appears, the date just gets engraved into your mind.

(God, Pepper. Rhodey. Were they even– What if– No, no, no, not now.)

Tony sat up after a small nap, rubbing his eyes and looking around the murky interior of the Milano (that’s what Nebula told him the ship was called anyhow), and then thought, _“Huh”._

_“Huh, Stark, you’ve survived forty eight years. That’s at least three more than you ever thought you would live.”_

That wasn’t a happy thought. 

People around him died, not even fighting, not from a bullet or a knife, but because of rotten luck. Died. Fell apart into dust by a literal snap of someone’s fingers. And that wasn’t even the worst part. _The worst part_ , a smart man once told him, a smart man who could be dead by now, all of them could be dead by now, all because of–

_The worst part is that you didn’t._

There was a fifty-fifty chance of survival, Nebula told him (Nebula told him an awful lot). Someone’s rotten luck lead them to be in the fifty that turned to ash, but Tony’s – because oh, Tony always had to be special – lead him to be in the one which didn’t. 

He caused deaths of people by making weapons, years ago. Then he made Ultron, the worst weapon of all, and caused some more. And now, because a wizard couldn’t keep true to his promise, he was single-handedly responsible for the extinction of half of the universe. 

Strange could talk about plans and endgames all he wanted. Strange was dead. 

Strange, and Quill with his crew, and – god, Tony tried not to think about Peter. Peter crying, begging, _apologising_ –

_“Not now, Stark. Not now. You still need to get this goddamn ship to safety. You have a passenger on board.”_

Well, speaking honestly, he was the passenger here, because Nebula knew how to navigate the deep space and fly past asteroid belts, but Nebula was grieving too, no matter how little she wanted to show it, and to add to that, Nebula was… younger. He guessed so at least, he was forty seven after all, and she didn’t seem…

_“Forty eight. Forty eight now, that’s the whole reason you got to this whole depressive train of thought in the first place, god, Stark, keep your mind in check.”_

Right. Right, yes, birthdays. 

He’s had some bad birthdays over the years. He drank poisoned whiskey (twice, actually, and one time he didn’t even realise it before waking up in a hospital bed), was almost kidnapped once (Pepper can say what she wants about fancy galas, but they are the easiest place for criminals to sneak into), or mostly forgotten about (well, Howard never had the best record of remembering events either). But this, oh, this takes the cake by a long shot.

Being stranded in space with an alien after losing a battle for half of the universe’s survival and watching your… protégé?.. crumble to dust in your arms. Doesn’t get much worse than that, does it?

“Well, whatever,” Tony thought to himself, or maybe said out loud because spoken words somehow felt more real than thoughts. “Who cares. We got other things to worry about.”

Other things like who is still alive back on Earth. Is Pepper? Is Rhodey? Is Bruce? Or, oh god, is Steve, whom Tony still didn’t get the chance to – well, he had all the chances – didn’t have the balls to call? Perhaps if he did, if they talked it out – the brawls of the past seemed nothing in comparison to the battles of the present – maybe then they would face Thanos together, and then they could… 

‘Maybe’. Tony hated the word ‘maybe’ because past is past is past is past – there is nothing they can do about it now, nothing they will ever be able to– 

Well, unless they get their hands on the Time Stone.

Which could help. 

Maybe. 

(See, that’s why he hated the word).

Still. Even if that would work, going back, reversing time, changing the past, how would they ever get the Stone in the first place? They were a crew of two on an old ship and had no idea where to even start looking for Thanos. Nebula had no allies and very little plans; Tony’s allies were all back on Earth (and even then, he didn’t know how many were still alive). They had no means of contact and hardly enough space petrol to get anywhere near the planet. Where would they even start? Neither knew. Neither knew, and neither could even–

“Hey, Stark! Get over here!”

Tony flinched and got to his feet, following Nebula’s voice to the upper level of the Milano. The ship was old but well-maintained, and, Tony thought, if he was on it in different circumstances, vastly different, he would love it. Maybe it would even be a nice place to have a birthday party. Hey, who didn’t want to celebrate their birthday in space once upon a time?

(Tony didn’t. He really did not.)

“Something wrong there, Neytiri?”

“You referring to me by that name,” Nebula shot back humourlessly. “We have an incoming direct transmission. Do we answer?”

“I don’t think anything can possibly get worse even if we do,” Tony shrugged curtly, leaning over to the pulsating message on the screen and pressing a button which said ‘Accept’ in a language he could hardly read. Nebula gave him a tired gaze. “Come in?”

“Hey, who told me this thing wouldn’t work? The raccoon?” a voice exclaimed over the radio, female and young, tired but hopeful, with an accent, but at the very least in clear English. “Tell him I’m never wrong.” Then, in a much more professional manner: “This is a transmission from planet Terra, in the Solar System. Speaking is Shuri Udaku, daughter of T’Chaka, the… acting queen of Wakanda. Am I speaking to the crew of the Milano?”

Nebula frowned. Tony allowed himself a quiet breath, but not a second to think about what ‘acting queen’ implies about King T’Challa. Right now, hearing a voice from Earth was enough. 

“You’re speaking to the Milano, but not to its crew,” he reported, voice professional. “This is Tony Stark. You may have heard of me.”

There was a momentary pause on the other side, during which Tony dug his nails into the palm of his hands ( _”Please, please, please”_ ), and then – an incredulous snort. The queen spoke up again.

“Not the person I was expecting, Mr Stark.” There was a noise which sounded like clapping and clicking of heels against the floor. “Would someone call the Captain here? And the Colonel? Hell, call everyone, tell ‘em we have their dearest Iron Man on the line, straight from space, they’re welcome, by the way!” And then, after some shuffling, a little less tired and a little brighter: “Oh, and I heard happy birthday wishes would be in order?”

Tony chuckled, disbelieving and almost hysterical and hopeful, hopeful, because Rhodey and Steve and _everyone_ , and if they had contact, oh, if they had contact they could make plans, and if they could make plans–

Well, another smart man, a smart man who was alive, if the queen’s words were anything to go by, told him that if they lose, they lose together – but if they are together, they might even win.

Maybe. Yes, maybe. 

But perhaps, for once, ‘maybe’ could be enough.

“They would. You better sing the song too, and when I’m back, I’ll be asking for cake.”

“Come back, and I’m certain we could arrange that.”

Tony smiled.


End file.
